


There Goes My Bebe

by WritetheWrong



Category: Cukur
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-09
Updated: 2018-12-30
Packaged: 2019-07-28 15:17:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,372
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16244321
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WritetheWrong/pseuds/WritetheWrong
Summary: Cumali and Yamac have always had a bond.





	1. Chapter 1

Yamac is born premature. ‘He’s a fighter’ your father says when he comes home for a change of clothes. ‘He’ll be the toughest of you all in the end your little brother, you’ll see’. 

Little brother. It’s not like you haven’t got enough of those. Kahraman is a wild, irresponsible 15 year old. Selim is a quiet, introspective 9, and now you have a baby to add to the mix. A baby! Honestly. It’s not like there wasn’t enough going on in this house. Sometimes the amount your parents bicker you find it incomprehensible that they even had the mood to ever make another one.

However when the baby is born, 5 weeks early, you feel a slight pang, a familiar gnawing in your gut. Worry. It’s the big brother in you. 

It’s not the baby’s fault that your parents can’t seem to stand each other half the time, that your mother is mercurial and your father self-involved. It’s just a defenseless baby. 

They don’t have a name yet. Just a weight 3lb 1. A tiny little human. You can’t believe something so little can survive, especially in this world, in this neighborhood. You want to go to the hospital, want to take a look at the new little human just in case but your father doesn’t let you. 

Idris Kocovali is a proud man, a man who rarely shows his children humility, or emotion, for the sheer weakness of it all. ‘You’ll meet him when he’s home son’ he bites back as he rushes out of the door. Not so much as a goodbye for his first born, his heir to the throne. You tried to stop hoping for too much from Idris, to stop hoping for scraps from your father. You’re tougher than that now. You are 17 years old, you are Cumali Kocovali eldest son of the famous Kocovali clan, family of Cukur, protectors of Cukur. You have made yourself tough. 

Still as you head back up the stairs to your room and catch Selim sat silently head down on the stairs you don’t feel so tough right then. ‘Pssst, little brother…’ you whisper as you sit down next to him, nudge his hunched shoulder. ‘You ok?’

Selim sniffs, brings a palm up to his nose and turns teary eyes your way. ‘No’. 

‘Why’s that then son?’ You ask. 

Selim has always been a sensitive soul, a rarity in this town, somebody who wore his heart on his sleeve in a thousand ways but held back at the same time, your little brother has confused you since the day he was born with that. Selfishly you hope the newest one is like you, has a little more fire in his veins. Still, you love Selim. You want to protect him. 

‘What if the baby dies?’ Selim manages big eyes welling up. ‘I wanted a little brother and now I may never get one Abi’.

It’s a legitimate question and you’re rendered silent for a moment. That is a real possibility here, you could see it in the tight lines around your father’s eyes when he packed his belongings. This is a tiny defenseless baby, born before it should be. These things didn’t always get a Hollywood ending. 

‘I tell you what we’re going to do Selim’ you decide upon ‘we are going to sit here and we are going to say a prayer for the baby, I’m willing to bet if he has enough love and thought from his brothers he will come through this’. 

You reach into your pocket, pull out the prayer beads, a gift to you from your grandfather, something you’ve never used too much but feel the need to now. You clasp Selim's hand in one palm and the beads in the other and you both begin to pray. 

At one point there’s a loud slam from down the stairs and Kahraman comes bounding up them, he catches you both and in an uncharacteristically sensitive move he sits down next to you on the stairs and take’s Selim’s other hand. The three Kocovali boys offer up a prayer for the baby. You vow to yourself if the little one pulls through you will carry these prayer beads everywhere you go. 

He pulls through. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You’re out buying groceries from the store for their return when they bring him back. You enter the house, taking the stairs two at a time and into the room. Your mother is in bed, your father takes the tiny bundle off her and you reach your arms out. You’ve been waiting to meet this one. 

Your father hands him over, the baby scrunches up his little nose, offers up a tiny yawn. You stare down at him. He looks at you. You swear he looks right at you. You are flooded with an indescribable feeling. You’ve had little brothers before, you’ve held babies before. You even think that maybe, just maybe you’ve been in love. The girl down the road with the books and the glasses perched on her nose that waves to you, that watched you and Idris work on the house. You think you’ve felt that. But you can’t describe this. This is deeper. This is primal. 

‘I think he knows his Abi’ your father smiles, noting the baby’s transfixed expression glued to your own. 

He does. He does know you. It’s like he’s staring into your soul and you recognise one another there. ‘Hello’ you finally offer when you can speak. His tiny lips pull together in a little rosebud like he’s figuring you out. Like he’s deciding if he wants to say hi back. If he wants to let you in. Then he furrows his head towards your chest. Your hand slides under him and you lift him up so his head rests on your shoulder. His little baby snuffles are warm on your neck. It hits you then. You will die before you let anyone hurt this baby. Your breath catches in your throat as you rub little circles on his back with your giant palm. He is so tiny. So vulnerable. This baby is yours to protect. 

‘He doesn’t have a name yet’ your mother speaks up from her pillow. ‘We thought perhaps you’d like to name him’. 

The baby mewls a little and you jostle him carefully, swallowing down the raw lump in your throat that seems to have lodged itself there in the past few minutes. You had always had a name you wanted to call your firstborn. There had a been a teacher at your school, a kind, serious, wise man who was both thoughtful and intuitive, a man that felt like he’d lived a thousand lives before in some way. Just as this baby feels. You had wanted to save it but now, now was the time to share. This baby that had already made its way into your heart deserved this, for fighting, for surviving from such difficult beginnings, for looking at you with a wisdom not of this earth. 

‘Yamac then’, you whisper ‘his name is Yamac’.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Yamac proves wise beyond his years, a contradictory, fascinating child, both wild and restrained, thoughtful and feisty, tempered and fierce, with all of that survivor strength. 

You worry about him constantly, when you were in jail and when you were out of it. He is too good. Too good for Cukur, for it to taint and touch him. He had neither the harshness of Kahraman or the neediness of Selim. In some ways your baby brother is the most innocent creature in all of the world and then you watch him lose it and he’ll terrify even you. 

He still looks at you with those eyes that seem to see into your soul. Still has you wrapped around his slightly bigger finger, you’d still move mountains for him. Forever your baby. The baby you gave a name. 

When they dumped him at your door, bloodied and broken you felt a fire you thought had been dampened light with such ferocity you feared you’d explode. You stitch him up, you clean him, you breathe in that hair, and you smell that baby that nestled into your shoulder 28 years earlier. You hold him as he cries, and you vow to murder anyone that touched him, anyone that hurt him, anyone that looked at him the wrong way. 

You try to temper yourself but Yamac is the exception. 

The baby is off limits. You will take revenge for Kahraman, for your family, but mostly for the baby, even if he doesn’t want it. After all you named him. He is yours, you are Cumali Kocovali and you protect what’s yours.


	2. Chapter 2

When he is 5 and you are 22 Yamac comes home from school with a bruised face. Your father takes one look, grips the little blonde boy’s head hard with one hand, leans down and tells Yamac he needs to defend himself, like a lion. ‘Push back’ he says firmly ‘you are Yamac Kovovali, we do not allow ourselves to be pushed’.

You are incensed. You are putting on a coat, you will go down to that school. Nobody hits your baby. Nobody touches the baby. Your mother notes your actions and nods an approval. She always likes to move her sons around like chess pieces, the Bishop protects the pawn, that’s what you do. Although everybody knows Sultan is the Queen. Your father however notices your movements and stops you as you head for the door.

‘Cumali? Don’t!’ He whirls, ‘he needs to learn to defend himself. You will do nothing but intimidate. We can’t have a 22 year old shouting at a 5 year old over there’.

You bristle. It’s the parents you’d have started with and you’d have made enough of a scene to make sure the child saw and wouldn’t be pushing the baby again in a hurry. Still, Idris’s hand stills you as it always does. You are vibrating with pent up anger. Bristling with the need to hit something. How dare they touch Yamac. Then you feel a tug on your jeans. ‘Brother, lets go play, lets go play’ Yamac turns his big eyes on you, peering up, hanging from your leg and you can’t resist that face.

You reach a palm down and his little one meets yours and you walk him up the stairs to his room throwing a disgruntled glance your father’s way to let him know you are not ok with this.

Yamac pulls you. The boy loves to play with you. Honestly it’s a bit pathetic how much you love to play toy cars with a five year old. Surely you’re too old for this. You love it though. You love this little boy. He seems to believe you could hang the moon, you’re superman to him, it fills a hole inside of your heart, sometimes Yamac can even make you believe that. You slowly sink to the carpet in his and Selim’s room and pick up a car. You stare at it, that one is scuffed, too worn, probably one of yours or Kahramans.

‘Do you want this one bebe?’

Yamac stares at you, tilts his head, displaying that freakish look like he’s lived a thousand lives before that never fails to unnerve you. ‘I’m ok Abi’ he says. He walks over to you, takes your arm and brings it to his face. You raise your other hand so you’re cupping his cheeks. You let your thumb trace the bruise on his cheek. Tiny circles on pale, vulnerable skin. You hate that somebody hurt him, you hate it.

‘What happened bebe?’

Yamac turns big wide five year old eyes your way and for a second you see a flash of fire. ‘Yusuf pushed Hakan down Abi and when I told him not to he hit me’.

You will find the parents of this Yusuf and you will have him apologise. You swear you will. There’s your sweet Yamac though, forever standing up for the innocent, the underdog. His tiny hands rest on your face as he rubs at your beardy stubble. You really should shave soon but your baby brother is fascinated by the whiskers on your face. ‘I will not let him touch you again Yamac’ you say. ‘I promise’.

Yamac giggles, childish giggles and he brings his forhead to yours. It’s your thing.

‘Silly Abi, I’m ok’.

‘Your face is hurt. We can’t do nothing. We have to teach him a lesson.’

The hands still on your face.

‘I did teach him one Abi’.

This amuses you, a smile makes its way onto your face.

‘Oh yeah little one? And what was that?’

‘I made friends with him’.

That stops you in your tracks. ‘You what?’

Yamac laughs again. ‘I asked him to be our friend and play with us.’

You snort. ‘I bet he loved that didn’t he’. 5 year old logic is such a random thing.

‘He did’ Yamac announces, stepping back and going for one of his cars. ‘He just wanted somebody to play with’.

‘So he pushed Hakan and then you because he wanted somebody to play with?’ You ask, confused. How are you being schooled by a five year old right now?

‘Yes silly’ Yamac huffs exasperatedly like an old fisherman’s wife, a noise which had no right coming from a five year old ‘he had no friends’.

You shake your head ruefully. It’s the first time you’ve seen Yamac’s theoretical brain in action, the strategist in him. You suddenly have a vision of the man this bebe will become and it’s fascinating. Who thinks like this so young? You certainly didn’t. If someone had pushed you, you’d have pushed them back twice as hard. You’ve been the first of Idris Kocovali’s kids after all, you were taught the tough responses. You would most certainly not have made friends with them. But Yamac doesn’t think like you, nor Selim, nor Kahraman, he’s different. He’s a different creature this one.

You stare at him fondly. ‘Come here bebe, come and give your big brother a hug please?’

Suddenly you are attacked with an armful of child. He flings himself at you, little arms around your neck. He clings to you tightly.

He clings to you again, twenty three years later, launches himself up from the sofa, battered, bruised and he sobs and sobs onto your shoulder. ‘It’ll pass, it’s passed,’ you tell him ‘it’s ok’.

‘It never passes’ he manages between sobs. You rub his back, the same circles his little palms would rub on your bristly cheeks.

What’s happened to him? Of course you know the jist, you’ve been in jail, not dead, you’ve kept a lot of tabs on your family. Tried to do what you could from the inside. But now you feel helpless, wrapped up in an armful of sobbing Yamac. It leaves you feeling impotent and you despise feeling that. He cries for sometime. You soothe him as much as you can, and then you worry because his forehead against your neck feels hot and you’re worried about fever, worried about the patch up job you did, worried if you should take him to a hospital. To hell with the consequences if he’s hurt.

‘Look at me bebe’ you whisper, pull back, grip him gently and then lay him back down on the sofa. ‘You need to calm down, you’ll make yourself sick’. You rest the back of your hand against his forehead. It’s hot.

He looks completely exhausted, wrung out in ways you’ve rarely seen on your little brother. He looks like he’s been stretched and pulled too thin. Like people have been asking too much, tearing at scraps of him until they’ve left nothing.

‘You’re alive’. He whispers when the sobs stop. ‘I knew you couldn’t be dead. I knew it Abi. I’d feel it. I know I would’.

You nod. ‘I’m alive. We’ll talk about that. For now lets focus on you bebe. Do your ribs feel ok, your stomach’s not too tender? We need to watch for the first sign of internal bleeding’.

‘I’m ok’ he whispers. ‘I’m ok Abi’ and suddenly you’re looking at that five year old again, sat on the floor of his room, reassuring you through the pain. Only this five year old staring back looks haggard, and hurt and pale and vulnerable, none of the hope of its original incarnation. This one looks wrung out.

‘Couldn’t make friends with the guy this time huh bebe?’ You ask quietly. But his eyes are drooping now and he doesn’t answer.

‘Get some sleep’ you whisper, ‘Your abi’s here’, you put a hand back on his forehead. He needs to eat you’ll go make some soup and then you’ll fix the world together. That’s what Superman does right? And this boy before you, he’s your kryptonite.  


	3. Chapter 3

Yamac comes waltzing into the warehouse with a bound and gagged Ersoy. Your little brother is singing at the top of his lungs, some ridiculous old Turkish number about being crazy. You are on your feet, moving from where you’d been leaning against the bonnet. Salih, Metin, Kemal, Celasun and Medet are on there feet with you.

‘I present to you…our Trojan Horse!’ Yamac crows with glee, he kicks the back of Ersoy’s legs and he goes down hard on his knees. ‘And what a fine Trojan horse we have here.’

Vartolu walks forward observing the scene before him, he nods at the captive ‘and what are we supposed to do with him son of my father?’

‘You know what Homer wrote in the Odyssey Son of my Father?’ Yamac rambles as he circles the man before him. ‘What the ghost of Achilles said to the great Odysseus when he appeared before him?” Vartolu spares you an unnerved glance.  “No winning words about death to me, shining Odysseus!” Bebe raises his arms in the air theatrically, ‘By god, I’d rather slave on earth for another man. Some dirt-poor tenant farmer who scrapes to keep alive—than rule down here over all the breathless dead.”  You rule alongside people who rule over the breathless dead dear Ersoy. I am here to offer life back’.

‘Yamac’ you interject cautiously, approaching with palms up, as if taming some wild bull. He looks a little like that right now, forehead covered in a film of sweat, eyes wild, he looks like he’s been penned in. It reminds you a little of the faces you saw in prison, of the haunting there, the way it had given away to madness. You don’t like this. It makes you feel utterly unnerved to see your baby brother hollowed out, rambling and erratic. He’s supposed to be the one to reign you in, to temper everyone else. He’s supposed to be the string hauling the kite back in, he’s not supposed to go spiralling across the sky like this. You don’t know if you can hold on to him like this. ‘Lets just take a minute here baby’.

Yamac whirls like he hadn’t noticed you. ‘Oh sorry brother’ he mutters rubbing at his forehead disconcertingly with his gun. ‘I keep thinking you see, about the stories, about how Achilles really thought he was on his own but he wasn’t you see brother, he wasn’t, he died for it, he died but he had an army, a whole army brother, beautiful really isn’t it?’ He paces back and forth, still rubbing the gun at his temple. You observe him, you really observe him now. It’s not easily noticeable but his hands shake minutely. He’s vibrating with either hyper-energy or madness and you’re scared to know which.  ‘They killed him with an arrow through his heel abi. Right here’, he leans down and lifts up his trouser leg, pointing at his foot.

‘Ok’ you offer, unsure how to play this.

‘They tried to get me brother’ Yamac whispers, looking straight at you for a moment, ‘they went for my heel. Mom with Kahraman, ‘you need to defend your family son’” his Sultan is pretty uncanny for a moment, ‘Dad with the Cukur angle, ‘Cukur is our home, Yamac is our father’ he shouts, pumping a fist in the air. Then he whirls, his face drops. Animated to pain in an instant, ‘Selim…Selim went for my heel with Sena, he ripped my heart out, you see brother, he ripped my heart out and he started with my heel’.

Kemal tries to interject ‘Brother’.

Yamac raises a finger. Silence then.

‘And then brother…’ he continues ‘they attended our family wedding, they shot every single member of that wedding party, they made it so I returned to find them, our family, to cradle them as they died, to sit in pools of blood, to feel them take their last breaths on my own damned porch abi’.

You find your breath frozen in your chest for a moment. He looks in such pain in that second. You realise he’s back there, his eyes stare into nothing. You never quite realised what he’d seen, what he’d been through. You never realised at all. You move forward. Arm out reaching for his shoulder. Desperate to bring him out of it. Out of the Yamac trance. They’ve broken him. They’ve scarred him in ways you hadn’t realised here.

You’re close now. Everyone else watches silently, similar looks of concern on their faces. ‘Baby…’ when you touch him he shudders, physically shudders. His eyes roll slightly. Then he’s back to himself, he brings a palm up to rest on your wrist. ‘And then brother, they took you, they took him’ he points at Vartolu with his gun, ‘they made me crazy again. I’ve tried really hard you know? Really, really hard not to let me wire come off again. It’s what Muhittin abi used to call it, when I lost myself a little. He’d tell me my wire was coming off’.

His hand is painful, grips your wrist with a strength you’re not sure he’s even realising right now.  ‘And what did you do to get it on again son?’ you ask quietly. You don’t care about your audience it’s just the two of you now.

‘I don’t think I ever did’ he says, ‘I think I just covered it up a little brother, I can’t cover it up anymore. I can’t control it anymore you understand?’

His hand grips harder, then he lets go suddenly. Whirls back to Ersoy, gun back to his head. He cocks his head to the side. ‘They shot me in the heel brother. Where will they shoot me next?’

‘Why don’t we just take a minute son to figure…’

‘WHERE IS THERE LEFT TO SHOOT ME NEXT?’

He’s shouting now, his voice echoing in the warehouse, gun hand shaking at Ersoy’s skill. ‘They take Kahraman, they take Cukur, they take my brother’s loyalty, they take the son of my father, they take my wife’s sanity, they take my eldest brother, they take my nephew, my friends, why won’t they take me? Why won’t they take me?’

‘Yamac stop’. You shout now. Desperate to get through to him. To reach him when he’s in this state. ‘stop now’.

‘I wanted it you know, I wanted it so many times, for them to just take me, to end it, to let it be done, be over. They never would Abi. Does that make me Achilles huh? The ghost destined to walk these streets, destined to be tied to this pit forever, is that me brother?’

‘Son of my father’, Vartolu is there now. He’s stood before Yamac.  ‘Your brother is right, lets go and get you some rest and we can take care of this asshole, come on rock and roller.’

‘My bike’s already in the air now’ your little brother utters wistfully. ‘It already feels like an inevitable landing.’ His finger itches on the trigger at Ersoy’s head ‘live, die, live, die, it’s all in the flying’.

‘Yamac’ Metin warns.

‘Live, Die’ he repeats.

‘Abi’ Kemal takes a step.

‘Live, die’.

‘Son of my father’ Vartolu interjects.

‘Live’.

‘Baby’ you whisper.

He looks at you. Meets your gaze. ‘Die’.

Then he brings the gun to his head, a split second, presses it to his skull and pulls the trigger.

 

* * *

 

 

_Click._

The noise resounds. Echos. People are screaming, moving, as if in slow motion. You are staring into your little brother’s eyes, you can not move. Well his brains aren’t all over you at least. He kept his eyes open, that’s what you notice, absurdly in that moment. He kept his eyes open. No flinching, nothing there, it was like staring into an abyss with nothing at the end of it. No emotion at the potential end. Nothing. He just looked at you with an eerie slight smile on his face.

‘Ah not today then’. He says. And then Vartolu has tackled him. He is on the ground, Metin and Kemal grab an arm each, Celasun takes the gun out of his hand. He opens the chamber, it is full of bullets. The gun jammed then. It jammed.

‘What are you doing? What the hell are you doing Yamac!’ Vartolu is shouting. ‘Are you insane? Are you insane son of my father?’

Kemal is actually crying as he pins Yamac’s arm down at his head. ‘Why brother? Why?’

Metin is directing Celasun to hold onto the gun and get it away from Yamac.

You are frozen. You can’t move. You feel like you’re one of those cement statues that sit at the gates of the house a few doors down from your fathers. You are rooted. You are stone. Did he just do that?  Did he just put a gun to his head and pull the trigger right in front of you, while he was looking at you?

‘Kemal lets get Ersoy to the truck’ Metin orders. ‘Celasun keep the gun away from him. Brother Cumali have you got this?’

You can’t move, your silence is obviously some sort of confirmation for Metin because he moves, he lets go of Yamac’s arm, a sniffling Kemal gets up too and Celasun takes the gun as the duo lift Ersoy and bring him out of the warehouse. Vartolu remains on top of Yamac, pinning him to the floor. Yamac stares past him, the hundred yard stare again. ‘Why did you do that?’ Vartolu is repeating, over and over ‘why?’ He seems completely rattled himself. Your little brother has taken everyone for a loop here.

And suddenly, suddenly it’s like you’re a puppet who’s strings are cut, you go down, your legs give way and you are crashing to the floor. You are limp, totally incapable of holding yourself up. He did it.  He did it.  He pulled the trigger.  The baby. The baby. Oh god the baby. He nearly just blew his head off in front of you. ‘Leave us’ you manage to rasp when you can swallow, with a throat as dry as sandpaper. ‘You leave us’. Vartolu tears his eyes away from Yamac and meets your eyes. He looks like he wants to argue, like he wants to stay and argue with your younger brother about the stunt he just pulled but for once, for once the universe gives you a break and he decides to obey you this time.

He clambers off Yamac and up to his feet, staggering out and away until you are left alone. Alone the two of you unable to move, one incapable, the other checked out.

You crawl. When you can, you crawl over, shuffling along the floor until you’re leaning over him. You reach for his face, his hair, his body, you run a hand all over him just making sure he’s in one piece, he’s not bleeding. He’s alive. He’s alive. You feel yourself begin to crumble. That was close. That was so close.

And it overwhelms you, your stomach feels like it’s in your throat and you lean to the side and throw up. You retch and retch, you haven’t eaten since that poor prisoner food they threw at you the day before. There’s nothing to throw up but you still are. Here you are.

He nearly killed himself. He nearly killed himself. He nearly made you lose the most important person in the world that you have. He nearly did that with his own hand. You are angry you are so angry. If it hadn’t been for that gun locking he’d be dead now. You’d be stood here covered in the remains of that little premature baby.

Your hands are suddenly around his neck, your hands are around his neck, your fingers flex. You are so angry. So angry and so completely terrified at the same time. ‘Baby, you stupid, stupid child’ you spit. ‘You stupid, selfish child!’

He stares off, unblinking.

‘How could you? How COULD you?’

You’re in his face now, you straddle him, hands still around his neck. You want to shake him, you want to hurt him, to make him hurt like he just hurt you, to choke him like you felt watching him pull that trigger, to make him feel the air leave his lungs and have to struggle to bring it back. You want to…

But you don’t want to.

Not really.

You don’t.

Your hands unclench and you bring your forehead down to his. He stares impassively.

Your hands leave his neck and rest on his chest and you bring your forehead down and you sob, you sob and you sob until it hurts to breathe. You love this boy. You would die for this boy. And now you need to work out how to fix him.

You break down for some time. It could be minutes it could be hours but eventually you feel a hand rest on the back of your head where it rests on his chest. ‘My wire came off Cumali'. He says, his voice taking on an eerie sing song quality.

‘Yes it did baby’ you whisper back. ‘But we’re going to fix you, I am going to fix you.’

Ersoy can wait, Mahsun can wait, Ceto can wait, your father, Selim, Cukur the whole world can wait, hell it can burn as far as you care. You will fix the baby, after all it’s what big brothers do.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Selim's return throws everything into a tailspin for Cumali and Yamac.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the kind comments on this, I'm sure the show will blow my dialogue out with what they actually run with but I wanted to address how I wanted the reunion scene to go based on the fragmans. Also big thank you to Milena who always makes me think further about Cumali's psyche, his guilt, his actions and his mindset.

When you first see Selim there’s this rush of love. This rush of big brother that you’ve never known how to explain. It floods your system.

Selim.

You grip the milk carton in your hand, knowing instantly the reason behind him leaving it. What it means. It means you defended him, it means he’s sorry, he’s there, he wants you to protect him again.

You are tired. Tired of defending, of attacking, of locking yourself in.

Love. That’s the first emotion you feel. Love.

‘Where’s Selim?’ You’d asked Yamac when you’d first reunited. ‘Where’s your big brother baby?’

Yamac had looked at you with such abject misery, such absolute betrayal in his eyes that you’d known instantly some sort of underhanded tactics had gone on. ‘Please don’t’ he’d whispered back ‘please don’t ask me about that now.’

So you hadn’t. You’d barely mentioned Selim in the baby’s presence. Such was the hurt it seemed to bring up. But you’d asked Kemal and later you’d talked it through with Idris. Never with Yamac though. It was clearly too raw. So you knew, you know what Selim did, or what Selim didn’t do.

Your first emotion is love.

The second is rage.

Pure molten hot rage. How could he? How could he? How could he let Kahraman down? How could he destroy and seize Cukur, how could he do what he did to the family, to the baby? How could he work with Vartolu, their brother’s killer?

The second emotion is rage.

Selim moves though, he’s drenched through in the rain, he looks so miserable like that child back in the greenhouse desperately defending himself for wanting a carton of milk. There’s a battle raging within you, love, hate, disappointment, sadness, loss, grief, rage, it swirls, it wraps itself tight around your heart. Hadn’t you always tried to protect them, been their big brother, wasn’t that your job? Your arms are around him before you’ve even really registered it. This is your brother. This is your brother standing before you. For whatever, for all that he’s done you are blood. You can’t deny that, can’t drain the blood from your body. He’s part of you and you of him.

You cling to one another, both of you soaked through, both of you bleeding out all over the patio. You miss Kahraman. You wish he was here too. The missing part of your brother quartet. Kahraman. The boy who made you a big brother. The first person you had to protect. The first brother you really, catastrophically let down.

Your fingers grip ever tighter, and tighter still. The rage comes now. You know that feeling well. Your vision swells red with it, the mist blinding your senses. You pull Selim inside.

Yamac breaks you apart. Of course he does. He slips into his default mode of mediator easily. He clings to you, he restrains you and you’re back in prison, you’re back held by the guards, you are being restrained and caged and you lose it, you shove him into the door. The stick in your hand is heavy, as heavy and destructive as your heart. ‘Are you here to kill me huh? How dare you come here!’

Every lash you throw Selim’s way feels like its burning you too, like it’s whipping your back into a frenzy at the same time. You are both taking this beating. You both deserve it.

The rage blinds you, blacks you out.

Selim is finally talking now, finally offering something, it’s scraps, it’s not enough. ‘They hated me, you know that’ he offers ‘I was hated as a child, or worse than that I was invisible. Selim why can’t you be brave like Cumali, or charming like Kahraman, where’s your fire like Yamac Selim…they hated me. Nothing I ever did was good enough. Nothing. I get married. No. I give them their first grandchild, that didn’t do it. I do everything they ever ask but it’s always wrong. That was my life, that was my childhood.’

You still. Come back to yourself. You’re in the lounge. Yamac must have got Selim ice, he’s sitting with it on his head now. ‘I wouldn’t know what childhood is’ you manage back. It’s true. Your parents were young when they had you, really young. They didn’t really know what to do with a child so you grew up as your father’s man. You were never considered a child. You never felt like one, never got that freedom so Selim can swallow that excuse. ‘They gave me a child though’ you tell them. You have memories of that, even though you were only three when Kahraman was born you have vivid memories of your father meeting your eye. Seemingly much more ready for parenthood this time, ‘You take care of him, you protect him’ he’d said ‘you’re an abi now’. You took that task very seriously.

‘One day he hurt his knee.’ You tell your brothers. ‘I was about to burn the neighbourhood down. The neighbourhood’. It was true. Kahraman was your first try at being a big brother. And look what happened.

It’s your fault.

You should have been there. You should have held him as he died, it should have been you dying in his place. That’s what being a big brother is. It’s laying down your life, its stopping them hurting, be that with a cut knee or several gunshots to the chest. That’s the law of nature. Children do not go before parents, nor little brothers before big. You always assumed it would be you first. You were the one who seemed to find trouble. You didn’t have an off switch sometimes. It’s a character flaw. You and Yamac were the feisty ones, the rebellious duo of your quartet. It was supposed to have been you, as the eldest. You’d been expecting it for much of your life. It’s why you never let your guard down too much. Why you kept yourself locked so tight. Why you kept that gun gripped close and the knife even closer. You’d always felt like you were being hunted, out of prison and indeed within it.

Selim has let Kahraman down too. How could he not do anything? How could he hide while Kahraman was repeatedly shot in front of him. You would never have hid; but you weren’t there were you? It’s you you’re angry with if you admit it to yourself. If you really thought about it. ‘Where’s my brother?’ You scream at Selim ‘where’s your brother? You didn’t protect your brother’. That last scream though is directed inwards.

You were sat in jail. You were doing a crossword. Maybe you were working out in solitary on that grimy prison floor, locked away while your little brother was dying on that sidewalk. You’ve never liked being restrained.

When you were eight, before Selim, long before Yamac, you and Kahraman were with your father, Emmi and Pasa, you were out by an old lake, your father discussing some business meeting with his ‘brothers’. You and Kahraman were brought along to begin your family business ‘training’ I guess you’d call it. Kahraman had spotted a tree branch that jutted out over the lake. ‘Can we go and swing from it Abi, please?’

You had refused, you knew your father would be angry if he saw you behaving in such a manner even at 8. You’d walked closer, took cover behind a tree tried to overhear what your father was saying to Emmi and Pasa, it had only been a minute, less but you’d turned your back. You heard a splash. Kahraman had gone in. He’d ignored you. You could see a flailing arm, your heart stopped, at eight your heart stopped. You didn’t wait a second.

The water was like ice. It clawed your chest, stealing the air from your lungs. You kicked down, felt the familiar floundering form of your brother. Pulled him and pulled him from below you. But as you kicked the pair of you up to the surface you’d found yourself entangled, tight, wound, something was tight around your leg. You pushed Kahraman up as far as you could.

You were caught. You were in trouble.

It was a collection of reeds. Knotted and tight. You were being restrained, you were pinned, the harder you kicked towards the surface the tighter you became entangled in their pull. It was hard to breathe, you remember that. That feeling of absolute certainty you were dying, of being pulled down, of losing air from your lungs. Your lungs were bursting, your vision greying and then darkness consumed you.

Emmi saved your life. Your father had gone in to get you and pulled you out but apparently he was too much of a shaken father to help really assist and Emmi performed CPR, pumping the lake water from your lungs and breathing life back into you as a sobbing Kahraman and a paper white Idris watched. That’s how Pasa told it anyway.

You never have liked being restrained ever since, it reminds you of that feeling of being pulled under, not being able to free yourself. You have only ever felt that certainty you were dying once more. The day your mother called the prison and told you Kahraman had been murdered. You were being pulled down, you were drowning again, only this time you couldn’t pull him back up with you. It felt like dying again.

You can’t remember much of that day. Know you wound up somehow back in solitary again, rocking in a corner, vision grey, hands curled, blood on the back of your skull. Nobody pulling you out of it this time.

‘You didn’t protect your brother’ you say again to Selim, to yourself. You failed. Then the rage dissipates a little, you look behind you. Behind Selim. Yamac sits. He stares into space. He looks totally done. He looks spaced and sad and miserable and tired. When did everybody decide to put so much on your youngest brother’s shoulders? When did that shift start? Doesn’t Yamac have the right to talk in this scenario?

When is the last time he was really given the floor?

‘I’m breaking him, we’re all breaking him’ you think. Kahraman died in this mess. You won’t let Yamac, your baby go the same way.

‘Sorry baby’ you tell him. ‘I’m sorry’.

Yamac comes out of his trance and starts a little. He clearly wasn’t expecting to get included in this narrative.

Selim shifts too, this whole time, this entire fight, verbal and physical you only now realise he hasn’t once looked at Yamac, like he can’t meet his eyes. They have serious issues to resolve your little brothers. Even bigger than your own molten fury. Yamac should have the floor. He shouldn’t have to spend his time separating you from Selim, not when he deserved to ask his own account.

Selim turns around on the sofa, looks back at Yamac. A lone tear crawls down his cheek. You curl your fists to stop the innate need to want to wipe it away and comfort him. Now’s not the time, he doesn’t get your comfort right now.

‘There’s nothing i can say’. He offers. ‘There’s nothing i can say little brother.’

Yamac just stares at him. Empty.

‘I betrayed you. I stabbed you in the back. I hurt your wife. I hurt our father. I hate myself for all of it. But I hate myself most of all for doing all of that to you. You never deserved it Yamac. You were the only innocent one of all of us I know that.’

Yamac swallows. He looks away like he can’t even look at Selim after that, like it all hurts too much.

‘I wanted to be visible’, Selim continues ‘I just wanted him to see me, like really see me you know? How he saw all of you. It’s not an excuse, there is no excuse but I’m just telling you what i felt. I thought if i could take Cukur, if I could show him i could do it, i’d hand it back to him later, I swear, I just wanted to feel what it felt like to be noticed, to be respected by him.’

Yamac’s not looking at Selim but you notice the way he swallows. His lip wobbles. It reminds you of when he was a toddler. You ball your fists again to stop yourself running to hug him too.

‘Why?’ He asks.

‘Why?’ Selim startles, surprised Yamac’s finally acknowledged him.

‘Why did you do that to Sena?’ Yamac finally manages, voice not much louder than a whisper, ’why did you need to hurt her? If it was about dad, if it wasn’t about me, then why?’

Selim darts a look your way. You lean your back against the wall and observe. Don’t look at me. You think.

‘I needed to distract you’, Selim says back, he shrugs, brokenly. ‘I needed to stop you looking at us while we did what needed to be done. I never meant for you or Sena to be caught in the crossfire Yamac’.

‘We were collateral damage for you then.’ Yamac shoots back, cold as ice. ‘Just collateral’.

Selim can do nothing but nod.

‘You didn’t just break my heart Selim’ the baby admits, ‘you ripped it right out of my chest.’

And suddenly you want to do the same thing to Selim, because look at Yamac, look at the agony on his face now, at the betrayal, at how much the ‘collateral damage’ has been destroyed here.

Selim nods. At least Yamac is talking now.

‘My brother. My brother. My brother who I originally began to suspect a little, who I was terrified might do what he did, but then who who jumped in front of a bullet for me. Why would you do that Selim? Why would you jump in front of a bullet for me only to knife me in the back later on?’

You freeze, you didn’t know about that part. What bullet what? Now is not the time to interject, it’s Yamac’s floor now. But you will get answers about this later.

Selim opens his mouth ‘I don’t…’  
Yamac isn’t finished though. He gets to his feet now. He wants to talk.

‘I’ve been hurt in my life Selim, I’ve been hurt a lot of times in my life but I have never felt that level of pain. I’ve never felt so stupid for trusting, so let down, so hurt by anybody you understand that?’

He paces.

‘And then the funniest part of all this, the most ironic part…’ he laughs. It’s not an amused laugh, it’s full of pain, of sarcasm, of hurt. ‘I find my family…massacred…’

You freeze. What Yamac must have gone through being there.

‘Lying in pools of blood, person after person, mom, Acer, Muhitten, Aksin, all of them, your family Selim! I tried to save Acer, I tried to save him you know. Mom had been shot herself, she had him beneath her, I took him from her, tried to help. I had his life in my hands and i couldn’t save him.’

You raise a hand to your mouth to stifle a sob. Kahramans son, a baby, a child, slaughtered. You can’t hear this you can’t.

‘Because you brought Cukur to ruin, because you and Vartolu and Emrah and Nazim, brought Cukur to that Selim. A baby died in my hands.’ Yamac has his hands stretched out in front of him. ‘Do you know what it’s like to watch a child die Selim? DO YOU KNOW SELIM?’

Selim has his head in his hands, he shakes it vigorously.

Yamac stalks closer to him, leans down. ‘Well I know. I know now. I see it every single time i close my eyes, so I try not to sleep. I try not to sleep until I have to now.’

You’re all crying now. Too much pain locked behind four walls.

’When everyone had got to the hospital, when those who hadn’t died weren’t in danger of doing so, when Dad arrived, I went back to find you you know.’ Yamac admits. ‘God damn me, i went back to find you. Because after it all, after it all Selim, I was still scared they might have killed you too!’

Selim’s sobs stop at this and he looks up. ‘You…you came back for me? It was you? You were the one…’

‘Oh who else Selim?’ Yamac shouts back ‘Who else would be stupid enough to keep on coming back for you huh? To take the kicks and keep on taking it, who else would be that stupid? That naive!’

‘Did you…’ Selim attempts.

‘Wrapped your wrists’ Yamac spits back. ‘Tied them as tight as I could. Drove you to the hospital. Promised myself i’d never trust you again.’

Selim sobs then. ‘You should have just left me Yamac’. He manages back. ‘Why didn’t you leave me?’

Yamac whirls ‘BECAUSE YOU HAVE TO STOP TAKING THE EASY WAY OUT SELIM’ he roars now. ‘YOU HAVE TO STOP.’

You step forward, gently grab Yamac’s arm.

‘BECAUSE YOU ARE OUR BROTHER! YOU ARE DAD’S SON. YOU HAVE A DAUGHTER AND A SON TO THINK OF. FOR ONCE IN YOUR LIFE STOP THINKING ABOUT WHAT AFFECTS YOU AND THINK ABOUT THEM!’

And what can Selim say to that? What can any of you say. The room echoes with Yamac’s words. Somehow even though he’s gone you can sense Kahraman’s with you. The four of you are together here. What can you say? How can you possibly all move on from this? Is there any forgiveness that can be found amidst the death, the betrayal, the carnage and this pit of a town? What can possibly be said to fix all this. You don’t know but you are their big brother and someone has to start somewhere.

‘I’m going to make tea’ you whisper. ‘Then we are going to drink together and this is where we start’.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yamac's shooting aftermath. It gets dark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well that last episode was a bit dramatic wasn't it? I couldn't NOT write a shooting continuation of what I want to see. I doubt it'll happen but whatever, this way it's real to me. Thanks for the support you guys. For always.

Your father stops you. When your hands clasping the blades are almost at each other’s sides. Of course he does. And of course he talks to you like you’re the one in the wrong. Defends this Salih, throws Kahraman’s memory to the wind, practically spits on his grave and demands you do the same. ‘He has a son Cumali! Stop!’ Your father says. _Kahraman had a son_ , you think, _he had a daughter, didn’t stop Salih did it?_ You don’t say it though. Your dad rambles on, Idris Kocovali in full storytelling lesson mode.

How did he find you anyway?

It doesn’t matter. You can’t let go of the rage, the injustice. The need to avenge your brother. Why has everyone forgotten him? Why has nobody paid for what happened? It’s not fair. It’s not. They are ignoring his memory like they ignored you for years inside. Out of sight out of mind you suppose.

You hate yourself for being weak enough to care what they think, what it all means, but you do, damn you you do.

‘I can’t just forget him like you have father’ you tell your Dad. His face has taken on an eerie glow in the illuminated lightning flashes of the graveyard. He hits you. Expected. You taste blood on your tongue.

‘Forget him? I would never forget my son.’ Idris screams, ‘How dare you suggest I’d forget your brother.’

‘Forgive me,’ you mutter, you’ve gone too far now, might as well go all in, ‘but it doesn’t look like that playing happy families inside our house with his murderer.’

Another slap.

Even Salih has the good grace to look down. Like he’s getting a front row seat of the Idris beating show. Why he’d even really want a part of this man’s life you don’t know. Why do you all want it is the saner question.

‘Cumali listen to me’ he says, grips your jacket, the rain soaks you both through but you barely notice it. ‘He has a child now. My grandson, your nephew. We remember Kahraman in other ways. We remind Salih every day who he was, so he lives with that’.

He shakes you.

How absurd. How absurd this is, standing before your brother’s grave while your father defends his murderer, attacks you. Why not though? The universe has never given you an easy time has it?

‘Tell him!’ Your father shouts. ‘Tell him about your brother.’ He turns to Salih ‘and you! You listen to every word and you remember what you took that night, what you took from all of us. What you took from him.’ He points at the grave behind.

You slump down, back onto the wall before Kahraman’s resting site. You hope he’s listening. You pick up your beads.

So this is how this is going to go then.

‘I was 21, he was 19, he wants to go to this casino…’

 

* * *

 

 

You have a lot of Kahraman stories. You and your father are still telling some to a thoroughly drenched Salih when Selim calls.

You can tell it’s him in the way your father answers the call, the clipped manner, the terse ‘son’ he would never talk to Yamac that way. So Selim then.

‘Well he’s got to still be there then’ he answers, frown on his face. ‘Well I don’t know Selim, I don’t know who he was meeting he didn’t say.’

Yamac then, they are discussing the baby.

Suddenly you’re a little on edge. ‘Can I have it father?’

Idris looks impatient and passes the phone over.

‘Child? What’s the problem?’

Selim sounds uncertain, like he’s not sure if he should have called, and he certainly didn’t expect to have to talk to you.

‘Um I followed Yamac, just wanted to be sure we had eyes on him’.

You nod, that’s actually good, yes, a good move from Selim for a change.

‘And?’

‘I arrived at these woods, he drives in to them and I wait out here on the road, a way back with my lights off and another car arrives, it goes in, i’m assuming this is the ‘friend’ he said he was going to meet, then it comes out and drives off and he hasn’t come out yet’.

You straighten. ‘Well just go and find him then.’

‘That’s the thing brother, I went in and I can’t find the car, I don’t know if he went out another way, and got past me somehow, is he back at the house?’

‘I don’t know’ you mutter back angrily, ‘I’m not there. Look he probably is, we’ll go check, he knows what he’s doing.’

‘It just doesn’t feel right’ Selim admits down the line and suddenly you get what he means because there’s an unease starting to grow within you too.

‘Stay there’ you say ‘send us your location. We’ll check at home.’

 

* * *

 

 

Yamac is _not_ at home.

You drive like a bat out of hell to Selim. You even let Salih come. He’s irritatingly insistent on it and to be honest you haven’t got it in you to argue right now, you just need to sort this Yamac thing out.

‘Try his phone again’ you tell the younger man.

There’s no answer. He’s meeting his insider again, you know it, he’s just caught up with him. But then why did the car leave? Why didn’t he come home?

How long has it been?

‘Calm down Cumali’, you think to yourself. Yamac is smart, he’s stupidly smart. He’s alright. No need to get unnecessarily worried. It’s hard to admit it but your little brother is a competent, fierce, young man. He’s fine.

But you can’t ignore the nagging feeling. The concern that’s starting to make its way into your heart. Why didn’t you ask more about who his informant was? Why didn’t you look a little closer at that matter. Your mind was elsewhere that’s why.

The hunched figure of Selim is illuminated in your headlights. You and Salih get out of the car, you hand him a flashlight. ‘Any sign?’

Selim shakes his head. ‘Maybe he went somewhere else’.

You share a look. There’s little way he’d have got out of these woods without Selim seeing him.

‘Spread out’ you say back, immediately taking charge. ‘And keep trying his phone, if he’s got it with him and on then we’ll hear it.’

You take off in different directions. It’s pitch black. _‘The person you have called can not be reached please leave a message…’_

‘Baby, answer your phone now’ you spit out, ‘where are you?’

You put your phone back into your pocket, silently, cautiously, step over branches, use your own flashlight to illuminate the darkness before you. You stay silent, if he’s meeting someone you don’t want to endanger him. Why is he meeting in a wood? What a remote place. Ah Yamac, ah.

He’s still a little naive your little brother, the big alpha leader, the boy with the plan, the one who holds everyone together, he’s also the one who trusts too much. The one who gives too much of himself. ‘My back is riddled with holes’ he’d said back to you earlier. ‘You just keep shouting’. The pain in his eyes when he’d said that. It had been impossible to ignore. It put your fire out a lot faster than a pail of water would have. Seeing how much they’d hurt your littlest brother. How many betrayals he’d clearly felt.

Yet he kept on turning his back. He kept on letting the likes of Salih in, of this Meke who you’re not entirely convinced isn’t going to turn again. Yamac’s heart isn’t up for negotiation, it’s not a bullseye for the world to shoot at, you won’t let it become that. You walk for some time before you find it.

The car.

You phone Selim. ‘The car. It’s here’. You hang up before he can respond. Send locations, he can tell Salih.

He’s not in it. Your father’s car lies dark and abandoned. So Yamac’s on foot then? Or maybe they took him? Suddenly you feel something worse than a gnawing concern, you feel fear. You weren’t lying to Aksin when you said you rarely feel that. You don’t. Yamac is the only person, the one person who is capable of instilling that emotion in you. He always has been. He makes you vulnerable and you don’t like that. You don’t like that feeling. But he is yours. Has been since they handed him to you, since they put that tiny premature baby in your arms. So tiny.

‘Yamac!’ You shout. You don’t even try for stealth now. There’s a tightening in your throat that feels a little like the beginnings of panic. ‘Yamaaaaac!’ His name echoes around the wood, across the night, reverbs into the silence. Your palms sweat. There’s a lot of wood here, if they didn’t kidnap him, or move him. No you won’t go there, he’s fine. He’ll be at home. This is just payback for you not going with him, for your Salih drama. He’s just being a brat.

But that isn’t Yamac’s style and you know it. He doesn’t punish people like this. Not like his old games of hide and seek when he was little that would damn near give you a heart attack if you couldn’t find the little boy.

‘Is he there?’

‘No’ your father says down the phone. You hang up before he can ask anymore questions.

Your flashlight scans the area, no sign. And where are the other two? The keys are still in the ignition of your fathers car. Yamac wouldn’t leave the car like this, not unless someone took him against his will. He wouldn’t. You lean in and turn the headlights on, it bathes the area in more light. As you make your way to the left of the clearing you notice something, there on the tree bark, you drop to your knees and move your fingers to it. Blood.

Someone hurt him.

No. No. _NO._

Maybe he hurt them, maybe he hurt them and ran when they turned on him? Maybe…maybe…

But you know. You just KNOW on some primal level that this is his blood. There’s a fist squeezing your heart now. You have a feeling you and fear are going to get very well acquainted tonight.

He can’t have got far if he got hurt. You reach the edge of a verge, every big brother sense on high alert, screaming at you.

_Where is he? Where is he? Where is he?_

Oh there he is.

’Yamaaaaaaaaaac!’

 

* * *

 

 

You took Yamac swimming when he was five. He loved the water, you still hated it after the incident with Kahraman. Still feared being submerged, pulled down, still distrusted it but your brother wanted you to come swimming and you couldn't ever say no to him. You had waded in, uncomfortable, wary and he had took your hand and kicked his little legs and he’d found it so much fun that you couldn’t help but see the joy in that.

You have vivid memories of him lying on his back kicking those tiny legs, staring up at you smiling, that blonde hair floating about him like a weird halo. It’s the first thing you notice when you get to him. The way his jacket floats around in the water, like his hair did back then. He’s floating in the most macabre, fun house mirror sort of way that you can barely comprehend what you’re seeing. He’s not looking at you this time though, his eyes are closed.

How long has he been here? Like this?

‘Yamac!’ you scream throwing down the flashlight, reaching for him, your voice doesn’t even sound like you. ‘Baby! Baby. Baby It’s ok. I’m here. Your brother’s here’.

You tug him, lift him out of the water, drag him to the bank. You can’t breathe. Is he breathing? Is he…is he…

Your fingers go to his neck. You can’t feel anything. Your hands are shaking so hard. You focus every energy on stilling them. There’s a tiny weak flutter beneath them. You sob. You can’t control the sob that escapes you. Alive then. Oh thank god. Alive.

You won’t nearly lose another of your brothers to the water again. You can’t see in the darkness, you can’t see where he’s hurt, or how. Did he fall? Did he hit his head and fall down here? Suddenly you hear voices, Selim, Salih.

‘DOWN HERE!’ You scream, carding your hands through his soaking wet hair in your lap. He’s freezing. You take off your jacket, throw it over him, the other two come tearing down the hillside.

‘Oh god’ Selim shouts, ‘oh god Yamac!’

Salih is a beat behind him, ‘what’s wrong with him, what happened?’

‘I don’t know’ you spit back ‘how the hell would I know, Selim quick, the flashlight.’

Selim kneels next to Yamac, and turns it on to your youngest brother and you wish he hadn’t. Yamac’s lips are blue, he’s grey faced, there’s blood in the corner of his mouth. You run a hand over his chest. All three of you wear matching looks of horror when you find the two bullet holes. One in his chest, the other his stomach. Somebody shot him. Somebody shot your baby brother, repeatedly and left him for dead here.

‘No!’ Salih manages with horror, ‘oh no, what did they do to him?’ He reaches out to touch Yamac. And suddenly it’s like you’re a wild animal. You grip the baby tighter, tuck your head into his hair, ‘Don’t touch him! Don’t you dare touch him!’

‘I’ll call an ambulance’ Selim stammers. ‘He needs an ambulance’.

‘No’ you scream again, wild, you can’t control any of this. ‘No i’ve got him’.

‘Cumali…’ Salih attempts.

‘I HAVE GOT HIM!’ you roar. ‘We take him alright? We don’t have time to wait for an ambulance, do you understand?’

You are met with matching looks of panic. Salih and Selim look oddly similar in this light, in this moment. ‘Start the car’.

Salih flies off up the hill, Selim hovers, you cradle the baby in your arms, you lift him to your chest, like he’s still the tiny infant they handed over, like you can still protect him from the world. You can’t. You can’t protect him. This right now, the bloodied mess of him in your arms is clear evidence of that.

You stagger up the hill. ‘You’re ok’ you whisper over and over. ‘I’ve got you now baby you’re ok. We’re here, we’re all here.’ Yamac doesn’t move. He doesn’t speak. It barely feels like he’s breathing. Selim opens the back seat and the two of you jump in.

‘DRIVE!’ You scream at Salih, as he kicks the car into gear.

Selim has the flashlight on. You peel up Yamac’s jumper, get to see the full extent of his ruined torso. Blood still runs from one of the wounds. You keep your hand clenched in your jacket stanching the flow of blood to his chest. Selim uses his own to keep the stomach wound compressed.

‘It’s alright little brother’ he says ‘you’re going to be alright’.

His head is in your lap. He’s cold, he’s so cold, but you had to take his jumper off to stop the bleeding, it was soaked through. He should be shivering, why isn’t he shivering, you know it’s not good that he’s not. That he’s probably too far gone to feel anything.

His tattoo stares up at you like some obscene bullseye. He got that because of you. He got hurt because of you too. Damn you Cukur, damn you stupid tattoo, it can burn for all you care right now. You took your eyes off him, oh god why did you take your eyes off him? You were too focussed on Salih, too focussed on Kahraman to see your baby brother was walking into a trap. You practically handed him over.

‘Ok you’ve got my attention now. I’m sorry’ you say. ‘I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I should have been watching you. I shouldn’t have let you go alone. Baby I’m sorry.’

Selim sobs. You bring your forehead down to Yamacs'. ‘Forgive me baby? Please forgive me.’

The car roars beneath you. ‘Is he still breathing?’ Salih shouts ‘guys is he still breathing?’

You turn an ear to his lips. Faint tiny wisps hit your cheek. ‘Barely.’ You manage back.

Tears are making their way down your cheeks now. Hot, furious, desperate. ‘I’ve lost a lot in my life Yamac,’ you whisper, you don’t even care that the other two can hear you, all that matters is you and him right now. ‘don’t make me lose you too. What did i tell you huh? I told you i’d beat you if you died didn’t I? Don’t make me beat you. I don’t want to have to beat you baby. Don’t make your brother beat you.’

Your hand is in his hair, the other keeps the jacket pushed down tighter on his exposed chest. You can hear it rattle, you can hear his lungs rattle. That’s not good you know it’s not good but at least he’s still breathing. ‘Drive faster! Can’t you drive faster?’

‘I AM DRIVING FAST!’ Salih screams back ‘CAN SOMEBODY TELL ME WHAT’S HAPPENING WITH HIM?’

Selim, has one of Yamac’s hands in his. ‘He got shot twice we think, one in the chest, another in the stomach, who knows how long he was in the water.’

His phone starts ringing.

You ignore it, you stroke Yamac’s hair. ‘Don’t die, please don’t die, please, please’ you say it over and over, again and again. You say it in your head, in your heart, out loud. Please don’t take him. Please don’t take him.

The phone keeps ringing.

‘Can you shut that phone up Selim!’

Selim lets go of Yamac’s hand, takes a look at the handset. ‘Dad…’

‘He can wait’ you spit. ‘He can wait.’

How long has it been? He’s not going to make it if you take too long.

‘Yamac? Hold on.’ Salih shouts from the front seat.

You pull Yamac closer. He’s yours.

For all the other pair in the car are panicked and emotional, right now he is yours to protect, not theirs. Yours.

Why did you stop looking at him? Why didn’t you go with him? You left him alone. Look at him.

Look at him.

And then you look down.

And the world freezes.

Because he’s looking at you.

He has his eyes open and he’s looking at you.

‘Yamac! Baby.’ You say, ‘it’s ok, it’s ok, we’re getting you help. Hang on.’

He looks confused, he opens his mouth like he wants to say something.

Selim leans over. ‘Yamac? Listen to me, you’re alright, ok, you’re alright, we’re here’.

He blinks, ‘I…’

‘Don’t try to talk.’ You say, ‘don’t try to talk’.

He looks out of it and scared and a million other emotions you can’t put your finger on right now. ’I can’t…brother…you have to…you have to stop him…’

‘Stop who?’ you say back, ‘Stop who?’

‘I can’t breathe’. He manages back, a strange whistling sound emerging from his throat now. ‘I can’t…’

And then his eyes roll back and his breathing becomes shallower. ‘Don’t you dare. Don’t you dare’. You say over and over, jostling him. ‘Don’t…’ then you look up, desperately. ‘Selim?’

Selim answers you with terrified eyes of his own. He covers your hand that covers Yamac’s chest with his own spare one. You can hear sirens now, you must be getting close to a hospital now.

Salih revs the engine, brings the car to a halt, just before it stops Yamac stops breathing.


End file.
